Fatal Attraction
by grissomGEEK
Summary: Grissom finally decides to step up and pursue a relationship with Sara. However, evidence from a current case connects to another one dated years back. He is now forced to make a life-changing decision which can entirely change his priorities.
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello to all! This is my first fanfic. First shot at writing CSI and GSR.

This is set sometime around Season 5, before Grissom and Sara became involved. You know what that means? We have the original team here! If there are inconsistencies with the original story line from the series, it's intentional so as to fit my story. In fact, this is an AU story.

I would really appreciate it if you can leave reviews. That way, I'll know if you like the story or not. I'll gladly accept both positive and negative reviews. I'll post 2 chapters after this, wait for feedback, and decide after that if I will continue this or not.

GG

* * *

PROLOGUE

**1998 – San Francisco, California**

The man desperately fought back, but to no avail. He could not remember how he ended up tied to a chair and a gag on his mouth. The last vivid memory he had of the evening was proposing to his girlfriend over dinner and celebrating it with a toast of champagne. Next thing he knew, he was some sort of hostage in his own bedroom.

His girlfriend-now fiancé- stood before him, crying her heart out. He wanted to comfort her, but even words couldn't be said because of the gag. He managed to blurt out some muffled words though.

"Honey, I'm so sorry," the woman professed. "I tried to do everything to prevent this from happening."

He understood her words, but couldn't grasp the context. He wondered what the hell was happening.

Then suddenly, every piece of the puzzle was laid out before him. It didn't take him long to process everything.

Rage consumed him. He threw all possible slurs that he could, regardless of their incomprehensibleness. He felt nothing but resentment and betrayal.

He couldn't believe that his happiness was built around deceit.

The woman spoke again. "I love you! I really do!"

_Lies! You selfish, manipulative bitch!_

"I admit at first, I was an opportunist. But when you gave me a chance, my world was completely turned around."

_I was meant to fall for you according to your sick and twisted scheme!_

He kept these thoughts to himself. She was responded with silence and a deadly glare.

"I decided to walk away from that. I wanted to start a new life with you."

_Yeah… start a new life with my money after you kill me._

"Honey, please tell me you believe me," she pleaded.

He only responded with the same glare he'd been wearing since he learned of the truth.

Two gunshots suddenly disturbed the atmosphere.

The man immediately died.

As his life ebbed away, his piercing eyes turned into mirrors reflecting the greatest of horrors. It was as if time stopped while his nightmares invaded his reality.

The man's gray polo shirt now sported a bright crimson color. The blood was quickly spreading from where the bullets where lodged-in his chest. Blood also trickled down the corner of his mouth.

It was a shame that somebody with a promising life ahead would only fall prey to predators that would go to the extent of killing just for their own malicious gain.

The man had the talent, the resources, even the charisma. He could've been one of the most respected figures in California if not for his decision to prioritize having a family. No one could blame him for seeking comfort and affection from a family he so wanted to have, much like any other human being. No one could also predict the miserable fate that would befall him.

He let his career stagger, opting to be a family man. The moment he fell in love, he opened his heart and gave up everything he worked for.

And that simple yet ultimately life-changing choice cost him his life.

Now he had nothing.

The woman fell to her knees. The smell of gunpowder sickened her. Seeing her fiancé drenched in his own blood intensified her despair.

She thought she could turn her life around. She never expected that she would fall deeply in love with this man who now sat dead in front of her. For a short while, she thought she finally figured out what to do with her life. She was given the second chance, a clean slate. She felt alive and more than hopeful.

But perhaps it was fate that decided it was too late already.

She continued to sob as she violently shook her head continuously. One moment, she was at the top of the world. The next, she was now rolling downhill, receiving a great deal of emotional damage. She wrapped her arms around her as if protecting herself from an invisible monster that was ready to devour her.

Another gunshot was fired, silencing the woman this time.

She lay sprawled on the floor. A small pool of blood already formed on the carpet, originating from the wound on her temple. The last of the tears she shed flowed freely from her eyes. Her eyes exhibited nothing but sadness and regret.

* * *

This is just a glimpse of the big picture. This is where the main plot will revolve on. ;)

Reviews please! *puppy dog eyes*


	2. Close Encounter

A/N: Now, back to the "present"!

Pardon the errors. I don't have a beta reader as of the moment. My original beta was too busy so I pulled out. :(

GG

* * *

Chapter 1 - Close Encounter

**2005 – Las Vegas, Nevada**

"Assignments," announced Gil Grissom as he walked into the break room. His timing was perfect. The graveyard team was complete. They were all seated around the table: Catherine Willows, Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown, Greg Sanders, and of course, Sara Sidle.

He stopped in his tracks. No one seemed to notice him enter the room. They were too absorbed in the small meeting that they were conducting. He wasn't surprised that he was an outcast. He made sure to distance himself if it wasn't work-related. Maybe they were having a lab gossip session, he thought.

He took a good look at each of his colleagues. Excitement was evident on their faces. It wasn't a birthday party of some sorts, he was sure of it. The next birthday on the team is not until several months later. It wasn't a promotion celebration either. If someone got promoted, he would be the one to announce it first as he was the supervisor. He also disregarded the idea that they were probably celebrating because they got additional funding from the government. It was bound to happen anyway. They knew better than to party for a cause they were waiting their entire lives.

He couldn't put his finger on what was the occasion.

Finally, his eyes settled on Sara who was directly in front of his line of sight, but whose back was turned to him. It was obvious from her body that she was laughing. Though he couldn't see it physically, his mind had a vivid image of her captivating smile.

It made him smile. His heart, however, hurt.

"Whoever you're bringing Greg, I'm sure she will be the luckiest woman of the night," Sara teased Greg with a hint of sarcasm. "If you'll excuse me, I need to refill my coffee," she added.

"Don't you want to be the luckiest woman of the night?" asked Greg. It was more of a challenge.

Sara just smiled and gave Greg a pat on the shoulder. It was a clear rejection to what he was offering her.

Just as Sara stood up and turned around, Grissom unconsciously took a few steps forward, reducing their distance to a few inches at most. They were standing face to face. Both stood frozen and speechless. They were caught off guard with the other's proximity.

Grissom could feel his pulse escalating. Having Sara at close range sent electricity down his spine. He could actually inhale her intoxicating scent. His gaze went from her eyes, to her nose, to her lips, then back to her eyes. He swallowed hard.

It took Sara her entire sanity not to let the coffee mug slip from her hand. On instinct, she held the mug with both hands to make sure. His deep blue eyes sent shivers to her arms down to her fingertips. Why the hell was Grissom standing too close behind her? For how long, she didn't have a clue as well. The way he looked at her made her conscious.

They remained still for a few more seconds until Grissom broke their eye contact and sidestepping eventually to allow Sara to pass.

"Assignments," he repeated as he laid down the forms on the table one at a time. The supervisor persona had taken over once again.

Sara took her time in refilling her coffee. She decided to remain where she was as she waited for her assignment. She didn't need another close encounter with Grissom. She leaned on the counter as she sipped the now fresh cup of coffee she had, stalling for as long as possible.

"Warrick, robbery in Henderson," instructed Grissom.

"Nick, decomp in Lake Mead. You're welcome," he turned with a devilish grin to Nick who scowled in return.

"Catherine, I need you on this open case. DA's not convinced. Go back to the crime scene and look for more evidence."

"Day shift," muttered Catherine. This elicited chuckles from the team except Grissom. He looked at her sternly over the frame of his glasses. When she looked flustered enough, he smiled to assure her that he shared her sentiment.

"I bet Ecklie's so pissed off, you can fry an egg on the top of his head," commented Greg. This time, everyone laughed at the thought.

"Greg, you're with me. You too, Sara. We have two DB's in WLVU. Finish whatever business you have then meet me at the Denali in ten," Grissom told the two.

He sped out of the room and went to his office.

Greg and Sara followed soon after they cleaned up after themselves.

Nick caught up with Sara and said, "Sara, let me know ASAP if you decide to go with me, alright? I'm sure Greggo here won't mind."

"Thanks Nick. I'd love to, but I feel it's not really me you want to bring along," she replied, winking. "I'm sure Mandy will say yes. You just need to be persuasive enough."

"So if I persuade you enough, you'll go with me?" Greg butted in.

"Nice display of chivalry Greg. I admire your fighting spirit. Use that somewhere else," Warrick remarked as he left to proceed with his own case.

"I'm afraid I have to agree to that," Sara said. "Come on, Grissom's waiting."

"Don't forget, breakfast at Frank's!" Catherine reminded them. "Drag Brass along, will you?"

"Sure thing. Have fun with your case," Sara replied as she stepped out of the room.

"Stay away from Ecklie if you want to live until breakfast," Greg advised, following Sara.

* * *

The drive to WLVU was quiet.

Grissom has his eyes glued on the road while he drove, no words coming out from him. He didn't find a valid reason to talk about something-or anything at all for that particular moment.

Meanwhile, Sara forced herself to look out the window and find something interesting in the scenery, at least anything that would keep her from interacting with Grissom.

Both of them were still recovering from what transpired earlier in the break room.

Poor Greg, on the other hand, kept fidgeting on the back seat. Finally, he decided to break the silence by starting a conversation.

"So Grissom… do you have a date for the ball?" he asked his boss.

Grissom shot Greg a puzzled look through the rear view mirror. Date? Ball? Could it be…

"You know… the annual LVPD ball?" Greg explained upon seeing Grissom's perplexed look.

Sara was amused at the exchange between the men. Typical Grissom. Of course he forgot all about it. Every year, she hoped Grissom will remember and ask her to be his date eventually. This year would be another lost cause for sure. With Grissom's reaction, things didn't look promising.

So that was what they were discussing about in the break room, Grissom thought. Every year, he tried to get the nerve to ask Sara to be his date, but to no avail. The competition was fierce. He had nothing against the likes of Greg and Nick-charismatic and youthful men. She was better off with somebody else. In the end, he would resort to pretending he didn't remember and eventually not attending. This year, he still felt unconfident. The excitement exhibited by Sara earlier probably meant she already had a date.

"Having a date is not mandatory. Attendance itself isn't as well," stated Grissom.

"Geez, Griss. You're bailing again?" Greg asked in disbelief. "You still haven't moved on, have you?"

Sara was intrigued by the last question. "Moved on? Did something happen?" she asked, glancing at Grissom.

Greg's eyes widened. "Sara doesn't know?" Oh god Grissom I'm sorry!"

Before Sara could pry more into Grissom's past, he stopped the Denali. Apparently, they were already at the crime scene.

A really bad timing, Sara thought.

Grissom abruptly got out of the vehicle and headed to meet homicide Detective Captain Jim Brass.

Greg was still in distress. He half-expected that he would be the next one found dead at a crime scene a few cases from now.

Sara caught up with Grissom. "Grissom, you owe me a story!"

"I don't owe you anything. Well, Greg owes me… an awful lot."

"Who owes what to whom?" Brass asked as he approached the two.

"It's none of your business, Jim," Grissom answered dryly.

"Good evening to you too. Hey Sara," Brass acknowledge both of them. "Hey Greg!" he shouted at Greg who now kept a safe distance from Grissom.

"What's the matter with him?" he inquired, noticing that the young man was now pale-faced and trembling.

It was Sara who answered, "Greg mentioned that something happened during the last time Grissom attended the LVPD ball."

"Oh, that? Sara doesn't know, Gil?" Brass asked Grissom. He just got a sour look from the man. "As much as I want to tell you Sara, I don't want to be the next slab on your autopsy table."

"Was it really that bad?"

"If you ask me on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, I'd say eleven."

Sara smirked at the statement. This gave her more reason to pester Grissom. She swore not to let him get away with this.

"Can we please move on to the case?" pleaded Grissom. "Don't worry Greg. I'll just pretend you're the only one who's always available for decomp duty for the next ten years," he told Greg.

Greg was now white as chalk and his mouth was agape.

"I was kidding." He gave him a reassuring smile.

That seemed to do the trick. Greg heaved a sigh of relief as he clutched his chest. The color gradually reappeared on his face. He came up to Grissom and Sara, but hid behind her and placed his hands on either shoulder of his friend.

"Just in case you uhmm.. change your mind which I hope you don't," teased Greg.

The detective led the CSIs towards the dormitory. They stopped outside a room where Officer Mitchell stood guard.

"Two dead bodies, one male and the other female. Male is Terrence Huxley, 19. Female is Lorena Ruiz, 18," Brass explained as he flipped through his notepad to double-check the facts.

"Huxley's roommate called it in. To make things worse, Ruiz is, unfortunately, roomie's girlfriend. Colbert Gray, the roomie, claims that Huxley raped then killed his girlfriend."

"Huxley didn't expect him to be home early. Imagine the surprise for both guys. Huxley drew a gun and held Gray at gunpoint. Gray wrestled Huxley for the gun and ended up shooting the guy dead. Called 911 immediately when he got ahold of himself."

"Where is Colbert Gray now?" asked Sara.

"He was transported to PD after I did the initial questioning. We'll hold him there for as long as you need him. He is a witness and evidence anyway," responded Brass.

"Wow. I thought this kind of tragic romance story happens only in movies," commented Greg.

"Welcome aboard Greg to the VIP screening of 'Reality'," Grissom said.

* * *

This is the part where the opening credits would roll in if it were an actual episode, LOL.

Anyway, please leave a review! It won't take much of your time. :D


	3. Deflated

A/N: This is a technical chapter, but I still managed to put a bit of GSR into it.

I am not a forensics expert. If I mentioned incorrect information, please let me know and I'll correct them.

Please note that this case is not yet part of the main story line. I planned on utilizing a few chapters beforehand to develop the characters.

GG

* * *

Chapter 2 - Deflated

Grissom crossed the yellow tape that barricaded the room. Sara and Greg closely followed. Brass, now on the phone, remained outside.

"Greg, process the room. Sara, you're with Ms. Ruiz. Mr. Huxley's with me," Grissom instructed.

The room was conveniently arranged for two occupants. On either side of the room, a bed and a closet were pressed against the wall. In between were two study desks, facing each other. A small divider separated the desks and provided privacy.

The occupant of the left side seemed to be a reserved young man. Pinned on his side of the wall were theatrical production posters and sketches. Books on poetry lined up his desk. It was obvious that before the crime, this area was neat and tidy.

The right side of the room, on the other hand, looked like a shrine for football and Rock and Roll. Among the various news clippings on football games and the music scene, the wall was also lined up with magazine cutouts of women clad only in bikinis. Less the crime scene, this area would still be cluttered and disorganized.

The entirety of the room can be described as a representation of yin and yang.

The CSIs stopped in their tracks, taking in every detail of the room before processing. Each had a field kit in hand, a flashlight on the other, and cameras hanging from their necks.

The assault took place on the right area of the room. Lorena Ruiz was lying on the bed, covered by a blanket waist down. Her shoes, pants, and underwear were scattered across the floor. Her eyes were open, fear and pain clearly evident. Dry tears covered her cheeks.

"No visible blood. There are marks on her neck, however. Possibly strangled to death," noted Sara.

Terrence Huxley was sprawled on the floor facedown. The gun was beside his body.

"His gunshot wound is most likely on the front. David will confirm it for us. No exit wound on his back. Gun used was a .22 caliber," Grissom said as he snapped photos of the gun and the body.

As they took more photos of the crime scene, they heard someone approaching.

"Hey guys." it was coroner David Phillips who entered the room.

"Hey Dave," Sara and Greg greeted back in unison. Grissom acknowledged him with a nod.

Dave proceeded to process Lorena Ruiz' body. He removed the blanket covering the body and bagged it.

"This is sexual assault. There are obvious signs of struggle. The marks on her neck suggest manual strangulation," he presented his initial findings. "I'll get an SAE kit."

He then went to the Terrence Huxley's body on the floor. He rolled the body over. The gunshot wound was now in sight.

"Single GSW, but not through and through. As soon as Doc Robbins gets the bullet out from autopsy, I'll forward it to you guys."

"Thanks, Dave," Grissom said.

The bodies were transferred to the gurneys. Before heading out, David asked, "Are you all ready for the ball?"

No one replied. The CSIs all just looked at Dave, surprised to hear the question coming from the coroner.

"Mrs. Phillips and I are going out later after shift to buy a new dress and suit," he continued, attempting to keep the conversation alive.

"Sara and Greg here are more than ready, I presume," Grissom bitterly replied.

"You two are going together?" David asked.

"Oh. No," Sara replied.

"With about a dozen offers from all sectors of LVPD, I'm sure Sara has someone," Grissom interjected.

"What made you say that? Are you keeping tabs on me now, huh?" Sara was starting to get annoyed by Grissom's remark.

Greg and David sensed the animosity in the atmosphere. David left silently, not wanting to be in the middle of the crossfire. Greg went back to processing the scene.

"But you're not denying it," Grissom said as he remained calm.

"I'm not admitting it either. You said it yourself. Having a date is not mandatory. Why should I force myself to go with someone?"

"You need it. Lots of men are lining up just so they could talk to you even for a few seconds. You need to give them a chance."

"I'm not a kid, Grissom. Don't tell me what I need and what I should do! You're just my boss and not my guardian! Haven't you considered what I want for myself?"

"All I'm saying is you should live your life outside work. Go out with someone. Don't let yourself get tied to the lab."

"That is some pathetic excuse of an advice coming from you. You know what Grissom? That's very tactless of you! You don't even want to share that thing that happened during your last LVPD ball attendance! What gives you the right to intervene with my life?"

Sara returned to her designated area and resumed her evidence collection.

Though his words were fraught with good intentions, Grissom felt that his statements all came out wrong. He didn't bother to say another word. He knew that Sara's judgment was clouded with too much anger as of the moment. He went back to his own task. He will apologize, but now was not the right time.

Greg managed to finish his job while the two were bickering earlier. He carried his box of evidence and headed out. He hoped the building won't explode if he left the two alone. He would just present his findings later at the lab. He met Brass outside and remembered Catherine's request.

"Jim, are you up for breakfast at Frank's?" he asked the detective.

"Sure thing. I'll catch up with you. I just have to make a few more phone calls and settle things here. Are you done? Where are Grissom and Sara?" Brass inquired.

"They're still inside. But I wouldn't go near them if I were you. History is witnessing another Grissom-Sidle war," warned Greg.

"They never learn, those two," Brass commented, shaking his head. "I'll just wait here outside then."

Back inside the dorm room, only the clicks of cameras and crumpling of evidence bags can be heard.

Sara finished first. "I'm done. I'll wait for you outside," she coldly told Grissom.

Grissom was actually done with his even before Sara did. He spent the last few minutes trying to come up with the perfect apology as he fumbled through items that were of no importance or relevance to the case. He kept his back to her most of the time so she wouldn't notice.

He finally heard her footsteps trailing away from the room. He grabbed his things and followed her outside. It was now or never. He won't have another moment with her as soon as they step outside the building. Maybe, just maybe, he could also ask her out to the ball. He wasn't sure why but somehow, he felt a little bit of courage build up inside him.

"Sara, wait! Can I talk to you for a second?" Grissom called out.

Sara hesitated for a moment, but then changed her mind when she saw the seriousness in Grissom's blue eyes. She hated the feeling that with one look from him, she would do anything he asked of her.

"What?"

Clearly, she was still upset over their exchange of words earlier.

Grissom approached her. After checking if they were out of earshot, he started, "Sara, I want you to know…"

Before he could finish his sentence, Sara's phone suddenly rang. She held up a hand, gesturing Grissom to hold whatever he was about to say. She picked up her phone and answered it.

"Sidle," she snapped on the caller. Her dismay was evident from her tone.

"_Hi Sara. Uhm... It's me, Mason."_

"Mason who? I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"_Mason Green from Missing Persons. We worked on a kidnapping case last week."_

"Oh, that case. I remember now."

Sara's facial features changed from frustration to worry in an instant. An officer calling her regarding a case is indeed something to be troubled about. Even Grissom became worried.

"We closed it already. Is something wrong Officer Green?"

"_Nothing, really. My captain sends his gratitude. We couldn't have done it without your help. Actually, I called for an entirely different reason…"_

She listened intently to Mason Green. Whatever the officer said was something she did not expect. Her face now obviously displayed total surprise.

"Did I hear you right? You're asking me out to the LVPD ball?"

Grissom rapidly became crestfallen. This Mason Green guy already had the guts to ask her out after working with her on a case for the first time. She barely knew the man, couldn't even remember where they met. He knew of that risk for sure. It didn't hinder him from pursuing the phone call.

And all it took was that phone call for Sara to slip away from his long-lived fantasy.

It was like a slap to his face, more like he was doused with a bucket of ice-cold water.

Grissom began to doubt himself.

He who had been around her for years couldn't even pull himself to deliver a proper apology to her, face to face. Sara was always within his reach. He was given all the chances he could have, yet he ignored them all.

He established Greg and Nick as rivals, but it didn't bother him. This time, however, he felt endangered. He always played safe. He neither moved forward nor backed out. Being stagnant, that was his weakness. Because he felt so conflicted on what to do about his feelings, he was starting to be left out.

He feared the worst.

Sara was right.

It really was too late.

One moment, his heart felt like a fully inflated balloon, ready to soar into the sky. The next moment, Mason Green comes into the scene and pops his heart with a pin.

He couldn't bear to hear Sara's reply so he just walked away, leaving her with the suitor alone.

Sara thought Grissom wanted to talk, but how come he was leaving her? His behavior and the unexpected phone call from Mason Green added up to her agitation. She vented out her frustrations to the officer because there was no one else.

"Officer Green, look. I really am flattered, but I have to decline. Right now is an inapt time to talk things such as this. Don't take this the wrong way. I'm not mad at you or anything. I'm just having a really bad day. Thanks for the invite. I hope you understand," with those parting words, she ended the call. She didn't even wait for a response from the other end of the line.

She knew she acted rather crudely towards the man. She felt sorry for him. She was under much duress as of the moment-the case and Grissom. Shift just started and they were already arguing about things that were too shallow and irrelevant to their work.

She heaved a deep sigh and headed outside towards their vehicle, hoping that this day won't get any worse.

* * *

Ouch.

Don't forget, reviews will decide the fate of this story!


	4. Plaguing Moment

A/N: New chapter! What really happened to Grissom during his last LVPD ball attendance? The answer will be revealed, finally!

GG

* * *

Chapter 3 - Plaguing Moment

Back at the lab, Grissom, Sara, and Greg all logged in their respective boxes of evidence. Grissom then went to his office and locked himself inside. The other two headed towards the locker room.

"Do you think he's still upset that I slipped?" Greg asked Sara.

"I don't think so," Sara replied.

"Are you still mad at him?"

"Honestly, I'm not mad. I just don't like it when he shuts himself out from us while we're so open to him. How can we trust him if he doesn't trust us?" she pointed out.

"I think he does. I know you do too. Grissom's not really the expressive type, so don't expect him to be waving around his feelings."

"Is that really you, Greg?" Sara teased.

Greg's response was just a chuckle. After a while, he spoke again. "Breakfast will do us some good. A good morning's sleep won't hurt too. Or we can catch a movie after Frank's. I can drive you home if you want."

"No, thank you. I think I'm going to pull a double today. Sara said. "I'll go back to the lab after breakfast," she continued.

"I'll catch you later then. I gotta go drop these off to Hodges." he held up some of the evidence they collected and left the locker room.

Sara was thankful that nobody entered the locker room after Greg left. She needed some peace and quiet to contemplate about what transpired earlier at the crime scene.

She sat on the bench and stared at the floor. She was telling the truth when she said she wasn't mad at Grissom. In fact, she was worried by his actions. She noticed that he had been more distant than usual. He was becoming too immersed in work. Even by her workaholic standards, Grissom was pushing himself over the limit.

She decided to talk to him before the breakfast with the whole team. To hell with concealing her feelings; she was never good at it anyway. Besides, intimate feelings weren't necessary for one to be worried over a colleague. It was perfectly normal to feel genuine concern. If Catherine or any other member of the team were in her place, they would most likely do the same.

She got up from her seat and hastened towards Grissom's office. She knocked on the door, not wanting to barge in and give the impression of being impolite. When she didn't receive a response, she pushed the door only to find it still locked.

The lights were dim and the blinds were all closed.

She knocked again.

"Grissom? Can I come in?"

Still no response.

She peeked through a gap and was surprised to find his seat empty. Her eyes then darted to the couch across his desk and there he was, sleeping.

Her uneasiness was lessened after witnessing the sight before her. They will be one man short at breakfast. She'll just order a take-out meal for him. Right now, waking him up was the last thing she wanted to do.

She lingered outside the office. She wanted to imprint this image of him in her mind. Even when asleep, he still appeared handsome. She desired nothing but to be beside him right at this very moment. How wonderful it would be to stroke his hair as he drifted in his slumber. Moreover, she imagined the feeling of his arms around her. She always yearned that one day, she would wake up in those arms.

Her trail of though was cut off when someone spoke behind her.

"You ready to eat? Are you waiting for Griss? What's taking him?" asked Warrick.

"I don't think he'll be joining us. He's sleeping. I don't want to wake him up," Sara answered.

"Let's order take-out for him then," Warrick suggested.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Sara said with a smile, hoping that Warrick didn't notice her daydreaming outside their boss's office.

Breakfast came and went. Sharing a meal with her friends that she also considered as family brought comfort to Sara. They had more than enough share of laughs as they ate.

Warrick bragged on how he easily closed his case. According to him, the owner of the store faked the robbery to cover up for their failing business. All because he didn't want his wife to find out that they were losing money. He was laughing all the while he was telling the ridiculous story.

Nick was not so lucky with his case. He retrieved the body and a few evidence. He was still in the process of identifying the person since he didn't find any ID or any other form of identification. In the end, they decided not to continue discussing the matter. Even for a CSI, talking about decomp over a meal can still provoke a loss of appetite.

Greg spoke for their case. He narrated the tragic story of the teenagers with Brass filling him in on some details. He left the part when Sara and Grissom had a heated argument. She was very grateful that Greg did not press the issue more. Even Brass seemed to understand the circumstance.

The upcoming LVPD ball then became a hot topic for discussion. They were all delighted when Brass blatantly asked Catherine to be his partner for the night right then and there. Catherine didn't seem to mind, she was more than pleased to accept the offer.

When they felt the urgent need for rest, all bade their farewell and headed home. Sara drove back to the lab. With her was the take-out for Grissom and a fresh cup of his favorite coffee blend from Frank's.

Grissom was still asleep when she peeked through the blinds. She borrowed a spare key for his office from the janitor. She entered as inaudibly as possible and placed the food and drink on his table. She hurried outside and was about to lock the door when an idea struck her.

She went back inside and discreetly rummaged through his drawer. She got a piece of paper and a pen and wrote a short note. She placed it on top of the food container so that it would be the first thing that he will see.

She smiled to herself as she read the note a few times over. Deciding that it sounded good enough, she went out, locked the door, and headed to work on the evidence they gathered.

* * *

Grissom woke up to the smell of undoubtedly, a Frank's breakfast meal. It all came down crashing on him that he fell asleep. He immediately sat up on the couch and rubbed his face with his hands.

_It was never his intention to sleep. After logging the evidence in, he rushed to his office and made sure to lock the door. He didn't want to be disturbed for the time being._

_He mentally kicked himself for walking out on Sara. What a pathetic person he was. He felt like an idiot, big time._

_He sat on his chair, but the sight of the mounding paperwork on his desk haunted him. He got up and lied down on the couch._

_He stared at the ceiling and thought nothing but Sara. And even right before he fell asleep, it was still her that lingered on his mind._

After recollecting his thoughts, he looked at his watch and saw that it was already past the end of the shift. He missed the breakfast with the team.

He then wondered how food appeared on his desk when all the while, the door was locked.

Catherine.

He inwardly thanked his friend for the effort of bringing him food. His stomach alerted him that he was hungry. He also smelled coffee which was prepared the way he always wanted it to be.

He stood up and walked over to his desk. A note from Catherine was lying on top of the food container. He grabbed the piece of paper and noticed that it wasn't Catherine's handwriting.

It was Sara's.

_Grissom,_

_I came by your office and you were asleep. I didn't bother to wake you up. I figured you really needed that rest. I took the liberty of buying you breakfast (with some help from Nick) and of course, your favorite coffee is there too. Eat then GO HOME. Don't fret yourself with the case. You've got me and Greg. _

_Sara_

He laughed at her emphasis on GO HOME. Too bad he planned on working a double. At this time, she probably was home already. She will never know that he stayed. He'll just pretend that he arrived early. Good thing he always kept a fresh set of clothes in his locker.

From being upbeat, he then suddenly turned guilty. After setting her off and walking out on her, she still had the heart to buy him food. He really needed to polish up that apology.

He happily feasted on his breakfast and after, walked out of his office to shower and change. On his way to the locker room, he saw Sara in the layout room, looking through evidence. He wasn't surprised.

Sara was as workaholic-no, dedicated-as he was. Their work habits were almost identical.

He passed by the layout room and entered the lockers for his shower. He wanted to talk to her looking presentable rather than resembling a cranky old man.

When he was done with all his morning rituals, he went back to the layout room and found her still engrossed in analyzing the evidence

He leaned on the door frame and spoke, "Sara, thank you for the breakfast. Are we good?"

_Damn it!_ His question was wrong in every way, he thought. Why the hell did he ask such thing?

"Apology accepted," she replied, flashing her authentic Sidle smile.

She found his expression to be priceless the moment he finished his statement. It was a mixture of shock and probably shame. He must've been surprised with his own question.

"If you're here, I presume you're also pulling a double?" she spoke again.

"Yeah. Everybody went home?" he asked.

"Yes. Greg and I took care of the things that needed to be sent to the labs. Trace, DNA, and prints. I also asked Bobby to run down the serial number on the gun you found."

"Then I guess I'll deal with the autopsies," he pointed out.

"Sounds fair enough," she agreed then returned to sifting through the evidence.

Few minutes of silence passed. Grissom walked into the room and stood across from where Sara was.

"It was before you came to Vegas," he said.

"Excuse me?" she asked as she looked up, a bewildered expression on her face.

"The incident at the ball. It happened before you came to Vegas."

"Oh. Wait. Do I need popcorn for this?" she joked.

"If you leave this room, you'll never have this chance to listen ever again," he threatened her.

"Alright then. Go ahead."

He breathed a deep sigh and began, "I used to go without a partner all the time. As you know, Jim was supervisor back then. So that year he persuaded me to find someone to bring along or else he wouldn't allow me to work doubles and force me to stay at home on my day offs."

"I take it Jim was successful?" she asked.

"Yeah. Got myself a date. Her name was Gail Sullivan. She was a consultant on a case back then," he explained defensively.

"I don't see anything wrong or embarrassing with that," Sara commented.

"I'll get there, have patience."

"The moment we arrived at the ball, I knew I made a very grave mistake," he admitted. "I realized that the woman was a female version of Conrad Ecklie. God, it was like digging my own grave."

Sara could not believe what she was hearing.

"She hovered on almost every table, socializing with all the higher ups. Being her date, I was like a prop, dragged me all over the place. We talked, but more than half of what she said just came and went through my ears."

"So I devised a plan. It was the only way out and I never anticipated that it will plague me for the rest of my life."

"I tried to be rude. Threw my manners outside the window. Admirably, she was persistent. She didn't mind."

"Then I thought of every woman's nightmare. I got myself drunk and threw up on her dress eventually. That finally rid me of her. We made quite a scene. Slapped me then walked out. End of story."

By the time Grissom finished his story, Sara couldn't control her fits of laughter.

"So that's why you don't attend anymore? You're terrified that you're going to cause another hullabaloo?" she asked in between chuckles.

"Not really. I was hoping the next time I'm attending, I'll be with the woman I've been waiting my entire life. I want to show the world that I'm proud of who's with me," he claimed.

Sara was dumbfounded, but brought herself to ask the question she feared what his answer would be. "So you haven't found that woman yet? Judging by your consistent absence, I think not."

He stared at her intently for a few moments then answered, "I found her years ago. But I believe she is better off looking for someone else." He appeared downcast as his eyes darted on the floor.

Sara couldn't figure out how to handle Grissom's cryptic response. She looked away from him. Silence shrouded the layout room until Grissom spoke again.

"I'll head now for the morgue. I'll see you and Greg later," he said and left.

Just as Grissom had exited, trace technician David Hodges entered while waving the results sheet.

"I've got your… where's Greg?" Hodges innocently asked as he looked around and found no one but Sara who looked as if she was about to cry.

* * *

What a way to end the chapter!

The next chapter will be uploaded within the week as well, but no promises!

Please don't forget to leave a review! It keeps me writing! :)


	5. Theories

A/N: This chapter doesn't have much GSR. I need to give the spotlight to the case they're working on. If we want to close this as fast as possible (and move on eventually to the GSR), I'll have to squeeze in the case details for the next few chapters. Hopefully, you readers are still putting up with this story. I want to thank you for your patience.

GG

* * *

Chapter 4 - Theories

"What do you have for me, Al?" Grissom asked as he entered the morgue. He donned a coat and latex gloves. The sound of the material snapping against his hands echoed throughout the room.

Doc Robbins was already closing the second body.

"Aside from the fact that you just wasted a pair of gloves, I wrote down my findings on the case reports. I just wrapped up here," Doc Robbins informed him as he cut the thread loose from the stitch on Terrence Huxley's body. "Where were you?" he questioned in return.

"I fell asleep in my office," Grissom admitted, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

"Ah, so you're still human after all," the doctor remarked. "The reports are on the folder by my desk. You can grab it on your way out. I'll just brief you on the CODs and some anomalies I noticed on the bodies. David sent over their effects to your people."

"Of course. I also have feelings if you haven't noticed," Grissom added with disdain. He stood between the tables where the bodies were placed, completely ignoring the latter part of Doc Robbins' talk.

"I'll make this quick if you don't mind. My wife's been nagging me the entire week. She wants to go out and buy a new dress. What is with women? Her closet's full of dress enough to last an entire year and yet she wants a new one for every occasion," Doc pointed out.

_He bitterly thanked his feelings for providing him emotional torture. He would've preferred to be tormented physically if given an option. He couldn't shake the thought of his almost affirmation of those feelings to Sara. He was lost in the moment. _

Doc Robbins walked over to the body of Lorena Ruiz.

"The COD of your female vic is asphyxiation. Her hyoid was broken, consistent with manual strangulation. The SAE kit was positive for sexual assault, no surprise about that," he explained.

He waited for a comment or question, but none came up.

_The only way to rid him of this ordeal was to get submerged in work. That was his coping mechanism for circumstances like this. Unluckily, this time, it wasn't possible because he was working with the very woman he desired so much to avoid. _

Doc Robbins was now over the other body.

"This young man here died from exsanguination. I recovered all of the bullets from his body. A total of three gunshot wounds to the chest. All bullets came from what looked like a .22 gun. His knuckle also had abrasions, suggesting struggle. Supports the account of the guy who shot him."

"I wonder, isn't it too much? You fight over a gun, you win, and then you shoot. Thrice. It's not like you intentionally wanted to drill the person to death. But then there's the heat of the moment. Maybe it's just me being too perceptive, or paranoid for that matter," Doc grinned at his own observation.

No answer.

_The least that he could do for now was to lessen unnecessary talk or any other modes of communication for that matter. The faster they close this case, the better._

"Gil? Did you hear everything that I said? You've been spacing out the whole time. You're not sick, are you?" Doc Robbins asked with growing concern.

What made him worry was Grissom's behavior and appearance. The most accurate description he could think of was he looked like a total wreck. His shoulders were slumped. He claimed he had slept, but the dark shadows under his eyes suggest otherwise. His head was tilted, mouth slightly open. He was staring at nowhere.

He wanted to believe that his friend was in deep thought with the case, but couldn't convince himself. Clearly, Grissom was undergoing some drawback. Whether it was work or personal, he couldn't tell. He wanted to ask, but he knew how private this person was. His attempts would be futile.

He was unresponsive. He heard no personal observations, inquiries, not even punch lines or unnecessary puns about the deceased.

"Yes. I got everything. Thanks, Al."

In an instant, Grissom was back to his CSI demeanor. He grabbed the folder containing the reports and stormed out of the room, not even bothering to remove the coat and the gloves.

* * *

Sara had been staying in the break room while waiting for additional results and the next shift. She finished arranging the evidence and came up with some theories of her own. She needed Greg's reports and the autopsy results from Grissom.

Speaking of the man, he was nowhere to be seen ever since he left for the morgue. He was probably cooped up in his office again.

It wasn't that she couldn't care less.

Rather, she got tired of caring too much.

The wall he built around him was impenetrable. Add the solitude of that office and Grissom was now invulnerable. She so wanted to tear that place down and burn it until only the ashes remained. That way, he would not have any place to hide.

She let her mind wander. She became oblivious to the several footsteps outside that indicated shift had already started.

Greg came in the room, looking like his old jolly self.

"I just came from trace. Hodges told me he gave you the results," he was more than relieved to say.

"This is going in circles. Why would I come to Vegas if it wasn't him I was looking for?" she mumbled to herself.

"Sara? I seriously hope you're not talking about Hodges," Greg said alarmingly.

"What? Oh, Greg! How long have you been there? I'm so sorry," she apologized for her outburst.

"I just came in. I was talking about the trace results from Hodges."

"Oh, that. Everything is in the layout room. I still need your input since we never had the chance to talk about it at the crime scene," she instructed. "If you're ready, we can start working on it. Will you call Grissom? The autopsy results are with him. He's imprisoned himself again in his office."

"I'm on it. We'll meet you there."

The two walked out of the break room. They parted ways when Sara headed for the layout room and Greg for Grissom's office.

Greg knocked on the office door. Finding it unlocked, he poked his head inside.

"Hey Griss, we need you in the layout room. Sara's waiting for the autopsy results," he told his boss.

Grissom looked up from his paperwork and said, "Thanks, Greg."

He stood up, grabbed the folder, and followed the young man outside.

Grissom, Sara, and Greg stood around the table. All anticipated drawing a conclusion from the evidence they collected.

Grissom started the discussion. "We know that Lorena Ruiz was sexually assaulted. The SAE kit is now with Wendy. If we're lucky, we'll be able to confirm if it was really Terrence Huxley who assaulted her."

"I'm not so sure about that Griss. I found a condom in one of the trash bins. Wendy is also processing it as we speak," Greg noted.

"Okay. Huxley was killed by three gunshots to the chest. There were also signs that a struggle indeed happened between him and Gray. Bobby is matching the bullets to the gun. No hits on who the owner is yet," Grissom continued.

"The assault was planned. We still have to prove if the shooting was done in self-defense or premeditated," Greg pointed out.

"Do we have evidence that tells us the shooting was planned too?" Sara asked.

"We though the assault took place in Huxley's side of the room. After some snooping around, I found out that Huxley occupied the other side of the room," Greg replied.

He pointed to the photos on the table, the ones he took, and explained, "I found these on his desk. These are photos of him and Ruiz. It seemed like they were really close, like the best of friends. That's motive for the assault. Maybe they were friends until Gray came and sort of took her away from him."

"That puts Gray in a more aggravated position," Sara commented. "The shooting doesn't look like planned. He's got the girl. It was just unfortunate of him to arrive in his dorm room and find his roommate violating his girlfriend. There was no reason for him to intentionally kill Huxley."

"That's what you're saying. We need to wait for the evidence to speak," Grissom contradicted.

DNA technician Wendy Simms entered the layout room, another folder in her hand.

"Hey guys. I got your results. The SAE kit was negative for semen. I ran the condom and found the DNA of your male vic. But it gets weird. The vaginal contribution on the condom was not from the female vic. I ran it through CODIS and got a hit. Her name is Abigail Chambers. She has records for solicitation," Wendy informed them. She left the folder on the table and went back to her work station.

"Everything is so messed up now. We can't even pin the assault on Huxley. He hired a hooker, then what?" Greg pondered.

"I didn't find another condom or any other trace that could support the assault," Sara said.

This time, it was ballistics technician Bobby Dawson who entered the room.

"Bullets matched the gun, makes your work easier. It wasn't in IBIS though. However, I ran the serial number and found the owner. No one from your teenagers in distress owns the gun," he explained.

"Let me guess. The owner is Abigail Chambers?" Grissom questioned.

"Hey you know man, I wonder why I still have my job if you can do almost everything in here," Bobby kidded.

Grissom only gave him a smile of satisfaction as he left the room as well.

"Gray's hiding something. I'll tell Brass to question him about Abigail Chambers and maybe he can bring her in too," Grissom suggested.

He took out his phone and dialed Brass's number.

"_Brass."_

"Hello? Jim? We have a new person of interest. Her name is Abigail Chambers."

"_Address?"_

"She's a working girl. She works at The Summit bar."

"_Okay. I'll round her up. Anything else?"_

"Can you bring Colbert Gray back to interrogation and ask him if he knows Ms. Chambers?"

"_Will do. Do you want to oversee the interrogation?"_

"Yes, please. Call me if they are ready. I'll head over there. Thanks a lot, Jim."

"_No problem. Thank you, too."_

As Grissom ended the call, all three of them had their minds working on theories.

"What if the roommate hired the hooker? Roommate's girlfriend made an unexpected visit and finds him. The guy was probably high or wanted his unusual hobby to remain a secret so he silenced her. They were friends after all. The girl must've felt hurt at some point," Greg hypothesized.

"There are numerous possibilities Greg," Sara pointed out. "But I still think that the boyfriend just got entangled with his roommate's mess."

"We're still missing some things," was what Grissom managed to say to assure his team at least. "Or maybe we have all the puzzle pieces, we just haven't arranged them properly yet."

Sara suddenly remembered the bed sheet which was now tacked on the wall. A sheet of plastic with blue markings covered it.

"We can confirm if Huxley really assaulted Ruiz or not. This sheet had transfers. You see where the transfers are? It's consistent with a person subduing another. Most likely came from the knees. It smelled like some kind of oil. I'll have Hodges analyze it," she said.

"Ah, teen spirit," Greg said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

* * *

A few more chapters to go and I'll be closing this case. Then we can have all the GSR we want, especially that LVPD ball thing! What do you think will happen? Will Grissom and Sara eventually realize that they should go out together? After the ball, we'll be moving on to the main plot (the one described in the summary).

Sorry if I had to start with a substory. It is necessary. I'll try my best to make the succeeding chapters more exciting!

And again, I'm asking for you to leave a review. Reviews really help me a lot. Who knows maybe the more reviews I get, the faster I can update. :D


	6. What Happens in PD, Stays in PD

A/N: More evidence hunting and witness interrogation for this chapter. We're nearly there!

After reading this, you might ask, "Why is the writer giving too much spotlight for Brass, Hodges, and Greg? Why can't it be pure GSR?"

My answer to that: I love those three. Sorry for the bias. You have to deal with it (I'm saying this in a sincere way, not bossy). Of course I love GSR more, but CSI wouldn't be complete without some humor from Jim, Greg, and David.

GG

* * *

Chapter 5 - What Happens in PD, Stays in PD

Grissom traversed the corridors of the Las Vegas Police Department. He knew his way around, but wasn't exactly sure where he was headed until he saw Brass standing outside one of the holding areas.

"So this Abigail Chambers tried to run for it. She thinks we brought her in for her usual rap. I haven't started the interrogation. What's her involvement in all this?" Brass inquired.

"DNA confirmed she had sex with Terrence Huxley. She also owns the gun that killed the man," Grissom explained.

"So the woman's in a boatload of trouble, huh?"

They both turned their attention to the woman seated inside the interrogation room.

Abigail Chambers was dressed for her known reputation. She wore a revealing and figure-hugging blouse and a mini skirt. She sat crossed-legged, her dangling foot swinging madly. Her fingers furiously tapped the table. Her eyes scanned the enclosed space surrounding her. Her body language was of pure tension and impatience. She may be a frequent visitor of the PD, but looked like it was her first time getting arrested.

She locked eyes with Grissom. Upon noticing him, she leaned forward on the table to showcase her healthy cleavage. She plastered on a sexually enticing smile. She gave him a wink and a small wave. He was unmoved by the flirtation.

There was nothing attractive about her, he thought. God knows how many plastic surgeries did this woman had underwent. He wasn't like any other men who, by now, would be drooling like a dog over the woman.

Plus, he had set his eyes on a different woman already. That woman was the perfect example of beauty.

"Look Gil, she likes you already. Good thing Sara isn't here or that girl is headed straight for the ER," Brass joked.

Grissom's head violently turned towards Brass. His eyes narrowed. Brass could only raise his hands as if surrendering.

"You're right. Maybe we should talk to her now. If it gets nasty, get out. I don't want to be responsible for whatever will happen there. Facing Sara's wrath is like sentencing me to hell," Brass continued his prodding.

Grissom kept on staring, his gaze now deadlier than before.

Brass rolled his eyes, unwavering to Grissom's silent threats. He went inside the interrogation room and Grissom followed suit.

From a state of jumpiness, Abigail Chambers suddenly transformed, resembling a purring cat ready to pounce at Grissom anytime.

Brass started with the formalities. "Ms. Chambers, this is CSI Gil Grissom from the crime lab."

"Hello, Gil," Chambers greeted with her most seductive tone.

"Ms. Chambers, would you mind telling us what were you doing in a WLVU dorm room last night?" Grissom asked, still oblivious to the woman's advances.

"Oh my, Gil. Are you sure you have the right person? I was nowhere near a dormitory, let alone near a damn school."

"Then where were you around 11:30 PM?"

"Hmm. Let me think about that. I was with a customer."

It was Brass who asked, "Does this customer have a name?"

"I have his card right here." Chambers fished the business card from her purse and handed it to Brass.

"A businessman from New Orleans? Looks like a dead end," Brass muttered as he handed the card back.

"Ms. Chambers, we found a condom with your DNA and that same condom was found in the dorm room I mentioned earlier," Grissom continued.

"I had sex last night, lots of sex. I had tons of clients. For all I care, one of them must've taken that home like some sort of trophy. 'Oh look here, I got laid!' Where is this going? I'm a hooker, that's what I do for a living. I'm not denying it."

"Actually, we're not here to discuss your work habits, lady. The man who used that condom is now dead," Brass finally went straight to the point.

Chambers' eyes widened. She now realized why she was arrested.

"Wait! You think I killed that man? Oh, please! All my customers last night were alive when they left! And I have an excuse like I told you!" she protested.

Brass became more aggressive with his questioning. "Did you know what killed him? He was shot. The gun that killed him was yours."

"That gun is for my protection! But never have I used it! It was stolen last night!"

"Why didn't you report it?"

"A hooker reports her gun missing. Does that sound credible to you?"

"If you told the police the moment it was stolen, it probably would."

Chambers couldn't utter a counterargument. She sighed in exasperation. "I'm innocent, I'm telling y'all!"

"Let's say I believe you. What can you tell me about the gun? Do you know who took it?"

"I'm positive it was one of my clients, but I couldn't tell exactly who. I just found out it was missing when I got home."

Grissom took out the photo of Terrence Huxley from the folder and placed it on the table.

"Was it this man? His DNA was the one we found on the condom along with yours. He was also the one who got killed by your gun."

"Oh my. Poor kid. I can't say if it was him. I couldn't even remember him. It's not part of my job to remember all of my clients' faces. Hell, most of them are cowards, wanted to do it with lights turned off."

Grissom took his chance, hoping his theory might be correct. He took out another photo. It was Colbert Gray's.

"How about him? Please concentrate Ms. Chambers," he requested.

"I'm sorry, honey. I can't remember him either."

Brass was getting impatient. "Among these clients of yours, was there anyone who looked suspicious?"

"A client? There was a shady one. After we had sex, I got into the shower. I heard him screaming and throwing stuff around. When I came out, he was gone. The room was a total mess."

"So he was one of your I-didn't-get-to-see-his-face clients?"

"Uh-huh. I didn't mind him being violent and all that. After all, Marty gave me five grand for the job."

"Who's Marty?"

"He's the bartender. Someone gave him the money, probably a friend of the guy. Marty said the rich dude was helping out a depressed friend. I was given instructions to go to the Golden Sands motel, room seven. When I got there, the guy was more like stoned than depressed."

At least they found a new lead. It wasn't exactly case-breaking, but it would suffice for now.

"Thank you Ms. Chambers. Your testimony might be the one we need to solve this case. We appreciate you coming down here, with a little coaxing as what Captain Brass here told me."

He stood up and headed outside.

Chambers shouted behind him, "No problem Gil! If you need anything else, you know where to find me."

He ignored the offer and once outside, took out his phone and punched in Sara's number. His thumb rested on the CALL button when he remembered that things weren't working out too well for them as of the moment. He called Greg instead.

"_Hello! This is Greg Sanders."_

"Greg, I need you and Sara to check out the Golden Sands motel room seven. If the owner asks for a warrant, wait for us. Brass will secure one for you. We need to visit The Summit first though. We're going to follow a lead there."

"_Got it, Griss. We'll be on our-hey Sara! Grissom's on the phone. He wants us to investigate a motel room, apparent lead."_

He could hear Sara's voice from the other end. There was another voice in the background-Hodges.

"_Get off me, Hodges. I can take the results for him. I also work on the case, if you haven't noticed. What do you need Grissom for? He doesn't want to talk to you, okay?"_

"_Sorry Griss. There's a minor dilemma here, nothing to worry about. We'll see you later-hey! How come Sara gets the results? Hodges!"_

The line went dead before Grissom could speak another word.

* * *

Grissom could not believe his misfortune. Once again, he had to endure another agonizing car ride, this time with Brass.

"I'm not your supervisor anymore Gil, so I'm talking to you as a friend."

"I know where this is going Jim."

"Don't worry. I'm not trying to save your ass. If you want to be a miserable, pitiful soul for the rest of your life, that's fine by me."

"Then why are we having this talk again?"

"I'm concerned about Sara. You've kept her in the dark for too long already. If you don't want to do anything about your feelings, just tell her directly. She can't wait forever, you know?"

"Do you know how much I wanted to act on this Jim? I'm not the one she needs!"

"Did that come from her?"

"No."

"So it's just your personal observation?"

"Yes, but-"

"Idiot!"

"What?"

"I said you're an idiot Gilbert Grissom. You haven't told or asked her anything and here you are, drawing conclusions. You're a CSI for goodness' sake! Evidence is all in front of you already!"

"How can you compare this with a case?"

"You asked her to come to Vegas, she did. She literally threw away her career in San Francisco to be with you. Now that she's here, you give her nothing but headaches. You're despicable."

Grissom became quiet. He didn't want to hear any more from Brass.

"Just try Gil. Why not start by inviting her to the ball? If it will not work out, which I highly doubt, then you can both walk away. At least you tried. It's better than constantly harassing yourself when she's within your reach this whole time. And you can also give her a peace of mind if you do something, regardless if it's fruitful or not."

Grissom pretended not to hear his friend's suggestion. Undeniably, he was right. He wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but a greater part of him remained skeptical.

"I know you're trying to conjure another pathetic excuse in your mind. All I'm asking for is you set aside your stupidity for a while. You'll thank me later for telling you that."

Yes, he'd been stupid this entire time. He was so because he wanted to be careful. Sara may be tough on the outside, but she's also on board in her own emotional roller coaster. He never wanted to hurt her in any way even if it wouldn't work out between them.

He never reacted to Brass's statements for the rest of the trip, but privately, he already thanked him.

* * *

The Summit bore a resemblance to a nature park rather than a bar. Vines crept along the walls. Makeshift branches hung from the ceiling. The floor was littered with shrubs and narrow trails were made so people can walk around. The fixtures were obviously plastic and metal, but were repainted to look like tree stumps.

Brass and Grissom approached the counter where a man was enthusiastically wiping its surface, whistling a merry tune as he did so.

"Hey there, fellas! What can I get you?" asked Marty, The Summit's resident bartender.

"Are you Marty?"

"Yes sir, that's me! How can I help you?"

Brass pointed to his badge hooked on his chest pocket. "I'm Detective Jim Brass, LVPD. This is CSI Gil Grissom from the crime lab. Can we ask you a few questions?"

"Fire away, Detective Brass!" Marty was more than pleased to entertain the law enforcers.

"We just spoke to Abigail Chambers earlier. She claims that someone paid her five grand through you," Brass recalled.

"Yeah, I remember. The man was a good friend, and generous too. I wish my buddies would pay a great deal of money to get me laid."

"Can you describe him?" Grissom asked.

"I'm afraid I can't Mr. Grissom, sir. It was dark and the guy was wearing a cap. It was some weird fashion trend but hey, five grand for Abby and another five for me, quick cash!"

"What else did he tell you?"

"Well, he bought an entire bottle of Bourbon. Then he took off just like that."

Grissom took out the photos of Huxley and Gray from his folder and handed it to Marty.

"Do you recognize any of them?"

In a heartbeat, Marty's face exhibited disgust.

"I recognize both of them sir. They were here last night. I couldn't forget them after their brawl. Turned this place into a boxing arena! I had to go overtime without pay just so I could clean the mess they made."

"What time was that? What did they fight about?"

"It was around 9 or 10 PM, sir. They were hollering like mad dogs, but I heard something about a woman."

It was Brass's turn to inquire. "Do you have surveillance here? We have a warrant for the tapes." He flashed the sheet of paper in front of Marty.

"Yes we do, detective. Just wait a moment and I'll get them for you."

"Thank you, Marty," Grissom acknowledged.

Marty rushed off towards the door with an "EMPLOYEES ONLY" sign. With any luck, the surveillance tapes will answer, if not all, most of their questions.

Grissom's phone buzzed. It was a text message from Greg.

"_Griss, motel owner agreed without a warrant. Sara and I are about to start the search. Motel is not far from the bar. You can still go here if you want. Say hi to Brass for us. Greg"_

"It's from Greg. The motel is not far from here. Are you up for some more adventure?" Grissom challenged Brass.

"We're on a roll here. As soon as we get the tapes, let's go," Brass replied.

* * *

This chapter was originally called "From Obscurity to Clarity", but then I changed it just before I'm publishing this. The new one's more witty... I think.

Do you have your own theories? Leave a review and let us know! (And yes, I am asking that just so I could get reviews. But I'm not forcing you, really.)

I'd also like to get feedback from you guys on how I write a crime story. I'm planning my next fic already which is a pure crime/mystery story involving a serial killer.


	7. Sympathy or Suspicion?

A/N: As early as now, I am warning you that updates might not be as frequent as before. I am in the midst of my thesis writing which is obviously more demanding than this one. Don't let your hopes down though. It doesn't mean updates will be slow forever. I will try my hardest to fit this into my schedule. I don't want to leave you (and yes, me too) hanging.

GG

* * *

Chapter 6 - Sympathy or Suspicion?

The Golden Sands motel was situated in the outskirts of the city. It was a dingy, U-shaped compound begging for a renovation. The area wasn't exactly spacious and cozy, but lost tourists who desperately need a place to stay for the night weren't at liberty to complain. The establishment's yellow ochre paint was peeling in various spots. Patches of soil contained the garden-or what was left of it. The entire place was absolutely unkempt. The owner must have pulled a lot of strings for the place to pass safety inspections.

Greg and Sara stepped out of the Denali. They did not waste any time in search of the owner. They headed straight to the leftmost building where the reception area was situated.

A man was seated at the reception desk. His face was buried on the newspaper. His scribbling suggested he was answering the crossword puzzle. Sara couldn't help but think of Grissom. She immediately dismissed the idea as soon as she thought of it.

The man set down the paper on his desk. He was probably in his late sixties or early seventies. He clasped his hands as he observed them over his thick spectacles. The first thing his eyes landed on was the LVPD insignia embroidered on Sara's and Greg's vests.

"What are you cops doing here again? I told you people that I run a legitimate business here. Don't judge a book by its cover. Yes, this place looks forlorn, but I assure you we try our hardest to provide the best service," the man lectured in a raspy voice.

"Actually sir, we're here on an entirely different matter. Are you the owner?" Greg said.

"Yes. You're here to book a room? I'm afraid I don't give discounts to law enforcement. And don't intimidate me with your uniforms. I know a couple of people higher than you'll ever be," the owner croaked.

"Sir, first of all, we are not cops. We are from the crime lab. We're not here to inspect your motel nor reserve a room. We're here on official business. We believe that room seven might hold some clues to an investigation we are currently working on," Sara irritatingly explained.

"Guests would steal here and there. I am aware of misconducts being carried out here. I didn't call for you. I don't need you poking your stubby little noses around my place."

The old man was nothing but bad-mannered. While Greg strategized on how to handle the situation, Sara didn't think twice about taking matters into her own hands. She fought fire with fire.

"Sir, we are working a murder investigation. The murder itself did not happen here, but a witness claimed that an event certainly occurred here that led to the murder. Two people are dead. If you do not give us permission to search the room, we can get a warrant and that, for sure, will be inconvenient for your business. If you give us consent now, we can leave here even before you finish that crossword puzzle you're answering," Sara snapped with what remained of her composure.

The owner was thunderstruck. It might have been because of the word "murder" or Sara's ferocity or both. He came to a realization that this woman in front of him was not worth crossing.

"Fine, do what you have to do. Room seven is in the building across. I'd hurry if I were you. Housekeeping might be working there as we speak. Tell them you have my permission," the man instructed.

Sara walked away without saying a word. Greg, feeling a bit guilty, apologized.

"Thank you for your cooperation sir. I am really sorry for my partner's behavior. It won't happen again. And hopefully we won't be going back here for a while."

"You better be damn sure about it boy," the owner replied as he grouchily reached for his paper and resumed his interrupted activity.

Sara was just in time as she managed to prevent the housekeeping lady from contaminating the crime scene. She persuaded her into tidying up the other rooms first. She stood at the doorway and examined the room.

Describing the motel as in disarray was an understatement if room seven was considered as point of reference. Tables and chairs were overturned. The sheets were all over the floor. The lamp was shattered into multiple pieces. Nothing was in its proper position.

Greg came shortly after. "I sent Grissom a text message. He and Brass are coming here after they're done at the-woah. This place really is dilapidated."

"The mess was caused by a struggle or a fight of some sort. But I'm sure even without the disturbance, the room would still look catastrophic," Sara relayed her observations as she pointed her flashlight in various spots within the room.

They both entered the room stealthily, not wanting to step on anything that might pose as evidence. They snapped photos of every nook and cranny. They bagged objects that seemed out of place for a motel room. The sheets were analyzed under the ALS, but they were looking at numerous stains from various contributors, probably even none from their suspects. It was still bagged eventually.

Blood wasn't present in the room. It was a good sign that they weren't looking at another murder.

As Greg looked under the bed, he saw an almost empty bottle of Bourbon.

"Sara. I got a Bourbon bottle here. There's still some left. Henry might find something aside from the booze."

Sara sorted through the chairs and table and found a baseball cap underneath the rubble.

"I have a baseball cap. DNA might still be present. We don't really know what we're trying to accomplish here, do we?"

As if on cue, Jim Brass entered the room. "How are you two? You didn't cause all this mess, did you?"

"No. Care to fill us in on why we are here?" Greg asked the detective.

"Abigail Chambers said that a 'rich dude' paid her to entertain Terrence Huxley and this is where it all happened," Brass explained, using his fingers to gesture quotation marks.

"Looks like we are in luck. Culprit might have left something of his behind," Sara said as she waved the plastic bag that contained the cap.

Greg added, "We're thinking that Huxley might have been drunk or worse, drugged. I found a bottle of Bourbon with contents that doesn't exactly smell like just whiskey. Evidence is telling us that this could be a set-up."

"Jim, where is Grissom? Isn't he with you?" Sara immediately realized that she should not have asked the question when Brass snickered.

"He's here. He's doing the motel owner's crossword puzzle, said that you two can handle the scene without him."

So Brass's reaction was because of a different reason. Sara felt relieved that it wasn't her question that made the detective respond that way.

"We need to hurry Sara. You said that we'll be out of this dump before he finishes that puzzle. If Grissom's doing it, we're screwed," Greg warned.

"I didn't mean any of it! The man was rude and I lost my temper. I was just being spontaneous," Sara protested.

"Why don't you two get back to work? I'll try to buy you more time. See you later." Brass gave them a wink before leaving.

"Why are you all taking what I said so seriously?" Sara infuriatingly asked.

* * *

Brass entered the interrogation room. Grissom went to the adjacent observation hall. He didn't want to confront the man yet until they assemble all of the clues together. Sara and Greg went straight to the lab to log in and process the new evidence they collected.

"I appreciate you coming here Colbert. Let's start over. You left out a few details when you told me the story of how you shot Terrence Huxley," Brass started.

"I don't understand Captain Brass. I told you everything," Colbert Gray protested.

"You might have been loopy the first time I asked you. I understand, really. You go home and find your girlfriend dead on your bed. Your roommate's there too. That must have been a shock for you."

Gray leaned on the table and said, "Captain Brass, I always knew Terry was up to something. It was all about karma. The shooting was an accident. But you know what? I don't feel any remorse. He deserved it. Sooner or later he'll meet that fate."

"Well, you see, we don't have concrete evidence that it was your roommate who assaulted your girlfriend. We are starting to wonder if the shooting was really an accident."

"I caught him red-handed. I walked in there, Lorena's dead. Terry was standing over my bed. When he saw me, he drew his gun and pointed it at me. I reacted on instinct. I tried to steal the gun from him. I succeeded. He was going to attack me again so I shot him."

"Shot him. Three times. Some instinct you got there," Brass remarked.

He stood up and paced around the room.

"We found out about your girlfriend's history with Huxley. I assume you knew about it too. You were roommates to begin with."

Gray was silent.

"I have a story for you. Once upon a time, Colbert Gray found out about his girlfriend and roommate's past. Accidentally or intentionally, I don't care. Anyway, he devised this carefully thought out evil plan that involved a gun. Colbert comes home to execute his brilliant plan. There was a twist however. He comes home and unexpectedly finds his girlfriend already dead by the hands of his nemesis. Colbert's rage was beyond measure. They fight over the gun. But in the end, the hero wins. The end."

"It was Terry's gun. I didn't make up a plan like what your story says. It was a normal day for me, as usual. My peril started the moment I set foot on our dorm room."

"So normal for you is hanging out in a bar and picking fights? You were at a bar with Terry hours before you killed him!"

Gray gulped.

"I didn't think it was relevant. It was just a childish fight."

"It wasn't relevant? For crying out loud! You were fighting over the same girl that also got killed in the process. How is that irrelevant from the case?"

"I don't know! Maybe he wanted revenge!"

"Well someone wanted it to look like that. Your roommate was set up," Brass revealed.

Gray was in utter shock upon hearing the statement.

"The gun was not Terry's. It was owned by a hooker who was paid by someone to have sex with him. The transaction was done in the same bar where you two had a brawl. I don't believe in coincidence by the way."

"You do know that everything's coming down hard on me! I lost my girlfriend and now you treat me as a suspect! I am doing this out of respect and love! You should be thankful I haven't called a lawyer yet!" Gray bellowed.

Brass slammed his hands on the table. "Then tell me man to man! Did you set Terry up?"

"Of course not! Why the hell would I do that?"

"I don't know. I'm not the boyfriend. Unless you can give me names of whoever may be responsible for this, I've got my eyes on you buddy," Brass warned.

"Lorena has many admirers, even stalkers. I don't have all of their names, but I'm sure it's one of them."

"But why go through the trouble of setting your roommate up? Why not go directly against you?"

"Terry was my friend long before Lorena came into our lives. Maybe that person tried to hit two birds with one stone. He wanted to ruin my relationship with both Lorena and Terry."

"Okay Mr. Gray. You'd better dig up that list of names in your head."

"Sure thing Captain Brass, anything I can do to help Lorena and Terry."

Brass stormed out of the interrogation room. Grissom met him outside.

"Don't be too hard on yourself Jim. We can take it from here. I believe we have enough to find the suspect. We have surveillance and other supporting evidence," Grissom said.

Brass sighed. "Either this kid is severely shaken up or is feigning innocence," he said, shaking his head.

* * *

Conclusion will be in the next chapter or two. It depends if I want to stall the GSR LOL just kidding.


	8. Chances

A/N: I enjoyed writing this chapter and I hope you enjoy reading it.

I also updated the story cover if you haven't noticed. Do you like it?

GG

* * *

Chapter 7 - Chances

"Archie, please tell me you have something," Grissom announced as he entered the AV lab.

AV technician Archie Johnson was seated on a stool, vigilantly observing several monitors at once while typing in different commands without fail. Clearly, this man was given the talent for intricate multitasking.

His eyes never leaving the screens, he responded, "As a matter of fact, I do."

Grissom sat beside Archie and attempted to comprehend what was taking place on the surveillance footages.

Archie spoke again. "If this place existed back when I was in college, camping would have been my hobby."

"Yeah. A nature themed bar, who could've thought? Probably more than half of the citizens of Las Vegas are now environmentalists," Grissom joked back.

Archie typed in some more commands which brought up different stills on each monitor. The first still clearly depicted the fight between Gray and Huxley. The second still showed the man wearing a baseball cap. The third still was of the bar entrance where baseball cap guy stood with Huxley.

He played the first video. "At 9:22 PM, the fight broke out. It lasted eleven minutes."

Starting from the 9:22 PM mark, the video showed Gray who was seated on a table, reveling in a few drinks with his friends. Huxley appeared and approached Gray's table. He appeared to be confronting Gray about something, most likely Lorena Ruiz as what the bartender recalled. Gray got up and pushed Huxley. In retaliation, Huxley started throwing punches on Gray who immediately fell to his knees, destroying some of the décor bushes in the process. Gray's friends instantly came to the rescue. They all held back Huxley who was violently struggling to free himself. The surveillance video ended when Huxley kicked some more décor and walked out of the bar. Gray, sporting a bloody nose and black eye, also left.

"This is where they got their wounds, obviously. That proves Gray was lying to us. He said that they fought over the gun in the dorm room. He didn't want us to know about this event," Grissom pointed out.

Archie nodded. He then directed his attention to the second video and played it. "Among those who came in contact with the bartender, there was only one who wore a cap. Of course you don't wear a cap inside an already dimly lit bar unless you're hiding something. He came at 9:47 PM. I enhanced the image to get a good look at the cap just in case. His face I really couldn't retrieve a clearer image though. It was totally obscured from the view of the camera."

He zoomed in on the cap. It was of the same color and design as the cap that Sara and Greg recovered from the motel.

"Yes, that's definitely our guy. Don't worry about the face Archie, we might have his DNA," Grissom identified.

"Good to know," Archie replied.

He zoomed out the image and played the video. The baseball cap man appeared on the screen and directly approached Marty the bartender. He handed Marty an envelope. Marty gasped upon realizing the contents. He quickly hid it in his back pocket and took out his phone to make a call, probably to Abigail Chambers since she admitted being called during the interview. Baseball cap man leaned in and spoke to Marty again. Marty took out the Bourbon bottle, which was also left at the motel, and handed it to the man. The man left, ducking to make sure his face wasn't captured by the cameras.

Archie moved on to the last still. "This last surveillance video was from the bar entrance. Timestamp is at 9:54 PM. Cap dude approached your victim. It looked like they knew each other. They crossed the road after, went completely out of the frame. They probably hailed a cab or got on a vehicle with a different driver. The parking's not that way."

Indeed, at 9:54 PM, baseball cap man approached and greeted Huxley. Huxley definitely knew the man because he acknowledged him in return. They talked for a few minutes, Huxley appeared to be venting out his anger because of what transpired earlier. Baseball cap man offered Huxley the bottle of Bourbon and he took it without objection. Huxley grabbed a swig from the bottle as the man patted him on the shoulder. As what Archie described, they left together, never to be seen again on the surveillance.

"How about the other one involved in the fight? Did you see him again after that?" Grissom inquired.

"Right after the fight, he went to the bathroom. Then he went to the parking lot, got in his car, and left," Archie informed him.

He punched in a command and brought up a new still on one of the monitors. The timestamp showed 9:41 PM. Gray was walking on the parking lot towards his car, furiously jabbering on his phone. He got in his car and drove away.

"Thanks, Archie."

Grissom got up and thought of visiting the other labs to follow up on results. All those thoughts were instantly washed away, however, when he caught a glimpse of Sara sitting alone in the break room.

Every nerve in his body screamed that it was finally their chance to have a heart to heart talk. No matter how hard he protested, his own feet betrayed him eventually, carrying him towards the break room.

His presence alerted her. There was no turning back. He wanted to run away and hide in his office, but that would be downright stupid.

Without thinking of a viable plan, he sat beside Sara and pretended to review the case files. It was a moment when he genuinely did not despise paper work. If he didn't carry it around with him, he would not have anything to disguise his true intentions.

He scanned through the documents, but didn't take any essential information at all. He pursed his lips as he stole glances at the woman beside him.

Sara wasn't oblivious to Grissom's peculiar behavior.

"Is there something you want to say Grissom?" she asked while her focus remained transfixed on the magazine she was reading.

"Succinyl choline is very dangerous when used as a poison. It stays in the body for the shortest amount of time, a few minutes at most, and then it's gone, completely untraceable. It provides you the perfect murder weapon and a perfect getaway. You can trace for some of its components though. It's undetectable as a whole, but if you break it down and check for remnants of those components in a tissue sample, you could still identify if a person died by succinyl choline OD," Grissom proudly explained, referring to the article that Sara was reading.[1]

Her eyes still remained on the magazine. "Thanks," she sarcastically replied. "You didn't go all the way here just so you could personally give me a lecture on what I read, did you?"

_Strike one_. He chose a wrong conversation starter.

His footing was entirely wrong. Geek talk would not let him accomplish anything. In fact, it was the last thing he needed to do at the moment. He must tackle this problem with a different strategy if we wanted to go out alive unscathed. The issue they should be discussing about was their relationship status and not some magazine article. His nervousness only made the situation more awkward than it was already.

"I'm sorry, no. Actually, I came here to talk about something important."

"About the case?"

"No. It's not related to the case, but it's still important."

This caught Sara's attention. She put down the magazine and turned to Grissom. She lost interest in reading anyway. She rested her head on one hand and continued to guess.

"Am I in trouble again? Did Ecklie ask you to reprimand me?"

"Still a no. I know the case is important. Your relationship with Ecklie is important as well. What I'm about to tell you is important from a totally different perspective. I believe that you deserve to know whatever it is that I'm going to say. I am not making any sense, am I?"

He felt her stare burn against his face. He admitted defeat. He couldn't make him blurt out his feelings. Then he remembered what Brass said. He should start first by asking her out to the ball. It was best to take small steps instead of moving forward by leaps and bounds.

With every fiber in his body trembling, he grumbled, "Sara, would you like-"

"Grissom, Sara! Our mystery baseball cap man is not so much of a mystery anymore!"

_Strike two. _He didn't expect to be interrupted.

The two turned around to find Wendy beaming at them, bearing results.

Sara was all ears while Grissom looked disappointed to Wendy's surprise. She relayed her findings anyway.

"DNA on the cap got a hit in CODIS. It came back to a Wesley Cannady. He has a record for extortion," she said as she handed a folder to Grissom.

"Thank you, Wendy," Sara said.

She turned back to Grissom who was now intently reading the file from Wendy.

"Grissom?"

"Hmm?"

"You were about to ask me something before Wendy came in."

He was momentarily sidetracked by the progress of their case. His senses came back whirling when he realized he wasn't there to manage the case. His pulse soared through the roof.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry. I was considering if you would like to-"

"I have identified the fingerprints from your crime scene, fellas," announced fingerprint technician Mandy Webster.

_Strike three._ He regretted not checking up on the labs first before coming to converse with Sara.

Grissom let out a grunt which was fortunately inaudible to both women.

"I found two sets of prints on the Bourbon bottle. One came from your victim, Terrence Huxley. The other set was in AFIS, belonged to a Wesley Cannady whose photo you are holding Grissom. Are you a psychic or something?" Mandy noticed the file containing Cannady's mug shot in Grissom's hand.

"Got this from Wendy. Thanks, Mandy. Let us know if you find more," Grissom said with all the calmness he could muster. He didn't mean the last statement in actuality. Inwardly, he wished for the exact opposite. He didn't want any more interruptions ruining what would turn out to be his most crucial admittance ever.

It was Sara who took the file from Mandy and reviewed its contents.

If it could, Grissom's heart would have erupted already. There was too much tension accumulating in his chest. His socially awkward soul was heavily battered and bruised by now.

He marveled at the sight of Sara beside him. It wasn't everyday that he got to appreciate this beautiful woman whom he fell for ever since they met. He was terrified of the outcome of this conversation.

He started again, "Sara, do you mind if I-"

"Tox panel results are in!"

_Shit!_

For the third time, Grissom was interrupted by, this time, toxicologist Henry Andrews.

"Terrence Huxley had GHB in his system. Ingestion was done via the whiskey most likely. The drink had a mix of the drug. Tests for Lorena Ruiz also came back positive. All drugs had the same concentration. I can safely assume they all came from a single source. We are really looking at a set-up here. You wouldn't take a club drug if you were planning on overpowering someone. That is crazy, outrageously crazy."

While in the middle of his untimely lecture, he was cut short when Grissom got up and grabbed the folder from him with excessive force that it made him step back in fear. Grissom seized Sara with his other hand, dragged her out of the break room, and led her to his office. He locked the door behind them and struggled to calm himself by drawing in deep breaths.

"Grissom, what the hell? You scared the shit out of Henry! You didn't have to do that!" Sara argued.

"Sara, I have something very important to ask of you. All I needed was the chance, but I was interrupted not once, not twice, but thrice!" Grissom bellowed.

"What could be more important than a case? That is so unlike you!"

"A lot of things! You and me for instance! Us!"

"You told me long ago that you didn't know how to deal with whatever's between us, if there is any to begin with."

"That's why I want to talk! I want to ask you if-"

Even with the two of them locked inside the room, insusceptible to any interventions-or so they thought, fate still had its way of wreaking havoc.

Grissom's phone started to ring at the most inappropriate time.

He closed his eyes in sheer frustration. His hands curled into fists. He bit his lip so hard that it nearly bled. He took out his phone and answered it. Because of his fussing, he accidentally shifted into speakerphone mode.

"Grissom," he spoke, voice as poisonous as it could be.

"_Gil, I have a 419 here, apartment in Boulder City. Please send someone over."_

"Fine. What else do you need?"

"_That's it. Are you alright?"_

"None of your business, Jim. Bye."

"I'll take that," Sara immediately offered. "We'll talk later if you insist so badly. Let's use this time to clear our heads."

Without waiting for approval, Sara left the office.

Grissom never felt so screwed up like this in his entire life.

* * *

"Hi Jim. Details?" Sara greeted Brass, attempting to cover her disappointment with a smile.

"Hey Sara. I wasn't expecting you. No offense meant, but you're working a different case. What is wrong with Gil?" Concern was evident in Brass's tone.

"Don't sweat it. I happened to pass by Grissom when you two were on the phone. I overheard the conversation so I volunteered to cut him some slack," Sara lied.

"I see. So, our victim's name is," Brass scanned his notes and found what he was looking for. "Wesley Cannady."

The only suspect they had as of the moment was now a victim as well. Sara panicked as she drew her phone and called Grissom.

"_Grissom." _His voice was now humane.

"Grissom, we have a problem. Wesley Cannady is dead."

* * *

[1] Based from a true story. If you're curious, read up on the case of Michael Swango.

Please don't hate me for what I've done with the chapter. They will have their moment, I swear.

Don't forget to send some love through reviews. I'll be waiting!


	9. Family Ties

A/N: Sorry for the late update. I got injured. I'm feeling much better now so here's a new chapter to celebrate!

GG

* * *

Chapter 8 - Family Ties

"This is our suspect?" Brass asked, half stunned, half disappointed.

"Yes. His DNA placed him at the motel and that also makes him the mystery benefactor caught on the surveillance tape," Sara explained.

"It looks like he wasn't working alone. This could be a hit, partner had to shut him up."

"It's too early to tell, Jim. Maybe you're right, but maybe this can also be unrelated to our investigation. Unless we have solid proof, we can't draw conclusions."

"Right. I'll find out his connection to the kids, do a background check," Brass said as he prepared to leave.

For a moment, Sara hesitated, but her concern over Grissom overpowered those hesitations.

"Jim, wait!" She caught up to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"It's Grissom. He's been acting a little strange lately," Sara stated in an extremely hushed voice so that only the two of them could hear.

"Doesn't he always?" he bemusedly questioned.

"Point taken, but it's a different 'strange', I tell you. He's stranger than the usual strange. I couldn't explain it. I just feel that something's off."

"Have you asked him directly? You'll have your answers if you talk to the man himself. After years of working together, sometimes I still couldn't reckon how those gears in his head work. I can't give you a straight answer." he admitted.

"That's part of the whole strange vibes he's been giving off. He wanted to talk about us. He seemed extra jumpy lately. His temper got out of control, which rarely happens," she enumerated.

"What did he say then? Why are you still asking me if you talked already?" he asked, still pondering the point of their talk.

"The conversation was sort of interrupted when you called," she embarrassedly confessed. "Sorry, I lied earlier about that just passing by story."

"Oh boy," he muttered to himself.

He finally figured out what was wrong with Grissom when he called. He interrupted a very, very important discussion. He now felt a colossal target on his back set by a rampaging Gil Grissom.

Unfortunately, Sara noticed his reaction. His face also gave him away.

"You know something Jim," she indicted. It was indisputably a statement rather than a question.

"No. No, no," he responded defensively.

"Why don't you try talking again when you return to the lab? As much as I want to help, that is between the two of you," he suggested.

Before Sara could utter another word, he immediately spoke, "I gotta go. I have heaps of work for today. Let's keep tabs on each other, okay? I meant case matters," and walked away.

To avoid her from doing any more prodding, he busied himself with his phone. When he felt he was far enough, he punched in Grissom's number. A series of rings greeted him before he was eventually redirected to voicemail.

"Gil, it's me, Jim. Before you make up your mind on how to stage my crime scene, if you haven't done so yet, I want to apologize. Wait. You know what? You're an asshole. I shouldn't be asking for pardon in the first place. It wasn't my fault that I disturbed your long overdue chat with Sara. Don't go throwing yourself like the end of the world waiting to happen."

If there was one thing Jim Brass wasn't good at, it was hiding secrets. Sure enough, he could be very much intimidating during interrogations, but when he was the one getting confronted, he would panic in his own subtle way. Unluckily, the more discreet he tried to be, the more conspicuous he would just become.

Sara needed to wait for an auspicious moment and then she could persuade him into spilling whatever it was that he knew about Grissom.

Instead of fretting about the two, she focused her attention on the task at hand. The crime scene wouldn't process itself if she wavered. Plus, she was alone so she was obliged to work twice as hard.

She commenced by surveying the entry points of the apartment. There was neither shattered glass nor splintered wood on the ground. All windows were intact. Door knobs were free from scratches and tool marks, no signs of being tampered with. Absence of forced entry meant Cannady knew his killer and willingly invited him inside. He had no idea that he was accommodating his last guest.

She went inside and found David examining the body.

"Hi David," she greeted the coroner.

"Hi Sara," he greeted back. "He's been dead for only a few hours."

"Thanks. What else can you tell me about our guy?" she asked.

"Well, death by single GSW from my initial observation. No other fresh wounds so he wasn't involved in some altercation. And here's the bullet," he explained then handed her the object.

"A 9mm. Thanks again David." She left the coroner as he continued processing the body.

She explored the room, hoping to find at least a sliver of evidence that would help them identify the killer or connect Cannady to any of the persons implicated in their investigation.

It was strikingly odd that a middle-aged man would meddle in teenager affairs. It didn't make any sense as of the moment. That was why she was there after all, to place that sense into the situation by gathering evidence.

At times, her thoughts would transiently fly in and out. Her latest misadventure with Grissom bothered her no matter how hard she suppressed that state of mind. She felt her stomach do a somersault upon the reminiscence.

Could it be that he was officially ditching any chance of them being together? Her chest throbbed at the notion.

_Think positive Sara._

It could also be that Grissom was finally making a move. Yes, that had to be it. The latter sounded more pleasant, promising, and something to look forward to.

_Don't expect too much. It's unhealthy to jump to conclusions. You, of all people, should know that best._

She might as well stop assuming scenarios in her head. With Grissom, it was quite impossible to assume anything at all. His mind ran on an entirely different frequency. He was completely unpredictable and never failed to intrigue her even after years of working together.

Her mindlessly wandering around was brought to a halt when she stepped on something. She looked down and saw a picture frame wedged between her foot and the floor. She picked it up to get a closer look. The photo was of Wesley Cannady, his wife, and their baby. This alerted her senses.

"David, where is his family?" she asked, panic-stricken.

"From what I heard, his wife and kid died a few years back. He'd been living alone ever since. You don't need to worry about them," David guaranteed her.

One problem less, but it didn't make their endeavor any lighter. Everything was still hazy ever since day one of their investigation. They had the crime scene and the victims. They were supposed to complete the trinity with Cannady as the suspect. The tables were turned, unfortunately, when he turned out to be another victim himself. A new triangle had coincided with the one they were currently drudging on.

"What could this man possibly have against the other victims?" Sara posed the question to herself.

* * *

"Listen to me, Hodges! Let Grissom cool off his head for the meantime. I swear to god he was ballistic when I gave him my results. This may sound stupid, but I really felt like he were to swallow me alive," Henry warned Hodges.

"That was you. I'm not you Henry. We all know that Grissom can't resist my prowess. He'd be so impressed that he would forget his flaring temper, let alone his name," Hodges gloated.

"Whatever! If he snaps at you, don't tell me I didn't warn you. But hey, a part of me is hoping that Grissom would actually swallow you alive."

"Who? Hodges? No, thanks. I'm planning on living longer," Grissom butted in as he entered the trace lab.

Henry was startled. "Hey. Grissom. Uhm. I was kidding, really. I'm sorry about earlier, man. I was out of line."

Grissom shot him a quizzical look, but then he remembered his horrendous outburst in the break room.

"You didn't do anything wrong Henry. I'm the one who should apologize. I guess the case is just getting on my nerves, that's all," he lied.

Feeling completely relieved, Henry acknowledged Grissom's statement and headed out. Hodges made sure to give him a gleeful look of victory, which he returned with a scowl as he left.

He glanced back at Grissom. "So what brings the great Gil Grissom to my humble laboratory?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Grissom replied nonchalantly.

"You need a shoulder to lean on? Don't worry, I won't judge you. I heard about your one hell of a drama earlier."

Grissom looked appalled. "Hodges, you're creeping me out. I'm not here to talk about that. Trust me, you're the last person I'd approach if ever I want to discuss my anger management issues."

"But you do realize that you coming here gives us a chance to have this bonding moment?"

If Hodges didn't do so well in his job, Grissom would have him shipped back to LA by now.

"We are on the clock. We are paid to work and not to bond. Just give me the results, will you?" Grissom demanded.

Either Hodges was unmindful of Grissom's disgust or he was so obsessed with creating a bond of friendship between them, which Grissom found highly unlikely to ever happen.

"Remember that my offer stands for as long as it can. The oily substance from your sheet came back as _Artemisia tridentata_, the state flower of Nevada," Hodges explained.

"Sagebrush?"

"Yes. Your suspect had traces of sagebrush oil on his clothes, got transferred to the sheets. I already filed for a request to test all clothing collected as evidence. If I find the clothes, you'll have your suspect."

"Thank you, Hodges. Glad to know where your priorities lie," Grissom said then left.

Greg met him outside of the lab.

"I heard our suspect got whacked," he said. "Brass sent me the files regarding his extortion case. We might find a connection to his killer or victims."

"Or both," Grissom pointed out.

"I was just about to check it out. Care to join me?" Greg offered.

"Go ahead. I'll catch up. There's something I need to do first."

"Okay. I'll be in the layout room."

With that, Grissom and Greg parted ways. Greg headed for the layout room while Grissom went to the lockers.

Grissom hovered in front of the locker he came for. He glanced around to make sure no one else was there. When he felt the coast was clear, he took out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and slid it through a slit. He casually walked out just as another CSI went in who, fortunately, didn't notice anything.

As he entered the layout room, Greg spoke, "Cannady never served time. His case didn't even make it to court. The charges were dropped a few days after they were filed."

"Who filed the charges?" Grissom asked.

"There's no name. That's weird. The record only mentioned his boss. I'll pull up his employment records. I'll have Brass interview all those people who Cannady worked for," Greg suggested.

He diligently worked on retrieving Cannady's records. A few more taps on the keyboard and his face beamed with delight.

"Why so smug, Greg?" Grissom probed, raising an eyebrow.

"I got his employment history. Guess what? He only worked for one company. It's called Grahame Financial Services, an accounting firm. Now, time to find out who the owner is."

Greg went back to work on his laptop with more eagerness. When he uncovered what he was looking for, he didn't look so cheerful anymore. Grissom couldn't fathom why his reaction was such.

"Griss, you have to see this," Greg said distressingly as he turned the laptop around for Grissom to see.

"Is this who I think it is?" Grissom raised the question with anxiety.

"That's Harvey Gray, Colbert Gray's father," came Greg's dreaded reply.

* * *

To be honest, I can't figure out anymore how long will the substory be. Ideas just come and go. It was a pity if I didn't write them down.


	10. The Chase Begins

A/N: This chapter was long so I had to split it into two parts. Expect the next chapter within a day or two. I just need to finish rechecking that second half.

GG

* * *

Chapter 9 - The Chase Begins

Sara arrived at the lab hours later, with nothing much from Cannady's residence. She hoped that Grissom and Greg were more successful than she was.

The first thing she did after logging in the evidence was to go to her locker to tidy herself up. It wasn't a habit she had back in San Francisco. Hell, she didn't even care of she reeked of death. As far as her work was concerned, appearance never mattered that much to her. She could deliver without being preppy. And after all, the dead didn't mind.

But everything changed when she came to Vegas. Being around Grissom made her extra conscious of her looks. Just the idea of what he would think or say if she looked disheveled drove her crazy. She secretly wished that Grissom noticed it somehow.

Halfway through opening her locker, Greg came rushing inside the room which redirected her attention to him.

"I saw you came in. How were things at the crime scene?" he asked.

"Not good. I just found the bullet that killed him and nothing else definitive. There was nothing that could connect him to Huxley or Ruiz," she described.

He gave her a smug. "Well, Grissom and I may have found the connection while you were on the field. I think you'll find it interesting," he teased.

She rode on with his enthusiasm. "Oh really? Let's see it then. If I'm not impressed, you're buying me that Ultimate Veggie Combo Meal from my favorite restaurant."

"Are you challenging my ability to impress you, Sara Sidle? Game on! If I win… let me see… go with me to the ball?"

"I'm calling all bets off. Just show me what you got."

"For a vegetarian, you seem to have an unusual affinity for _chickens_," he mocked her then ran away.

The friendly insult didn't offend her in any way. In fact, it made her laugh. Greg never once failed to bring a smile to her face, alleviating her pains even for a short amount of time. She followed him to wherever he ran off to, without the strenuous running.

The locker was completely forgotten.

Sara found Greg sharing the AV lab with Archie. He pulled up Cannady's records on one of the large monitors.

"Eight years ago, Harvey Gray, Cole's dad, filed a lawsuit against Wesley Cannady. Cannady worked for Gray, by the way. They must've reached some kind of settlement because the charges were dropped soon after," he explained.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked.

"My senses tell me it's all about revenge," he confirmed.

"Maybe the dispute didn't end with the settlement. Cannady took revenge on Gray's son. Gray found out, ordered a hit on Cannady."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Cole was indeed set up. Now his father's in trouble."

"Which means we have to relay this to Brass. I'll call him," he offered. He stepped out of the room as Grissom came in.

Grissom waited for any hint that would've indicated if Sara read his note. He knew her habit of constantly visiting her locker to freshen herself up. For him, she was the most beautiful woman he ever laid eyes on. Even if she just came out of a dumpster or wallowed in decomp, nothing can change his feelings for her. He secretly hoped that she didn't notice the way she made him tense every time they were together.

"Sara, did you get my message?" he asked her.

She immediately drew her phone from her pocket and checked. Nothing.

"There must be a problem with the network. I'm sorry. What was it?"

Obviously, she hadn't read it yet. He wanted her to discover it on her own. He needed to divert the conversation.

"Just what we discovered from Cannady's records. But I'm assuming Greg has it covered already," he lied.

"Yeah. We just finished talking about this entire quest for revenge."

"You really think it was revenge?" he asked her. No, he challenged her.

"Why? You have something else on your mind?"

"If Cannady wanted to exact revenge on Harvey Gray, why go through all the trouble of getting back at his son? And why set up his girlfriend and roommate? Why not just kidnap Colbert or kill him instantly?" He had a point. It was logical and made perfect sense.

"I thought we didn't care about the why," she pointed out.

"Let's just say that the why plays a very big role in our investigation. As long as we don't have a clue on what Cannady's motive was, we are kept here in the dark. We might be dealing with something far more sinister."

"You just have another theory. Spill it," she said.

"No. I just feel that this is too personal. I'm thinking it might not be because of money."

"Something to do with their families?"

"Possibly."

Sara became ecstatic all of a sudden. She remembered the photo she found at the crime scene. She turned to Archie.

"Archie, please find whatever you can on Wesley Cannady's family. I need information about his wife and their kid. I'm not sure if it's a son or daughter though. The child was just a newborn on the photo I found," she requested.

"Yes ma'am. I'm on it. Just give me some time to search through all of the records we have," Archie replied.

"Your thoughts?" Grissom asked.

"At Cannady's apartment, I saw this family photo. David told me his wife and their baby died some years ago. If this were personal, as you said, Gray must've been involved with whatever happened to them. That's why Cannady's itching for vengeance by getting back at his son."

Archie joined in the conversation.

"Wesley Cannady, huh? Funny, I think I read or heard that name somewhere." He was trying his hardest to recall to the point where furrowing his forehead too much made his head hurt.

"Help us out here Archie. Try to backtrack. Go back to the places you went, statements you heard, or records you processed on that computer," Grissom urged him.

Greg came back inside looking flustered. His body was tense and his aura gave off a sense of urgency.

"I just talked to Brass on the phone. Apparently, Cole Gray's list of his girlfriend's stalkers was bogus. Most were names of non-existent people. He's now off the radar. PD can't get ahold of him. An APB has been broadcasted," he informed them.

"Well, let's locate him through his phone. Archie?" Grissom knew very well that the lab tech could give them Gray's location in no time.

"Let's hope someone calls him and he picks it up. Maybe we can ask a friend of his to make the call. That way, it won't look conspicuous that we're trying to locate him. I have Gray's recent call records somewhere here."

He rummaged through his desk and grabbed the sheet of paper he was searching for. As he scanned the list of names, he found one that gave him probably one of the biggest surprises in his life.

"Holy cow! Grissom! I remember now where I saw Wesley Cannady's name. Remember the surveillance video from the bar? I matched Colbert Gray's phone records to the time when he walked out while talking to someone on the phone. Turns out, it was this Cannady guy," Archie revealed.

All three CSIs were dumbstruck.

Greg then sighed when he regained his composure. "So much for our theory. We've been working in circles and look where we ended up. It was Cole all along."

Sara shook her head in disbelief. "They knew each other. That makes Colbert the more considerable suspect than his father. And with him in hiding and a bogus list? He's definitely guilty."

"Terry Huxley's death might not be out of self-defense at all. But how can we pin the assault on him? We don't have evidence for that" Greg added.

Grissom's trail of thought brought him back to the surveillance tapes, the only image he had of Terrence Huxley while he was still alive.

_Colbert Gray staggering to his knees._

_Terrence Huxley kicking the bushes in the bar, ending the brawl._

_Sagebrush._

"We already have the evidence for that," came his reply to Greg's query.

"We do?" Greg and Sara look perplexed. They stared at each other, the same thought running through their minds.

"Follow me," was all Grissom said as he headed out.

Greg and Sara kept questioning themselves. Which evidence was Grissom referring to? He appeared to have solved the case already. Grissom, who was always a step or two ahead of them, asked them to follow him to wherever the answer was located.

And they did.

They followed their supervisor until they found themselves inside the trace lab.

"Hodges, are you done testing the clothes?" Grissom barked at Hodges who was working from across the room.

"Yes, I am. Sagebrush oil was present on Terrence Huxley's shoes and nothing more. Colbert Gray, on the other hand, had traces on his pants, specifically the knees and legs. To me, it looks like Gray waded in a ball pit, but with sagebrush instead of balls in it."

"I hate to say it, but good job, Hodges."

"Oh, come on! Even if you didn't, I know you look up to me because of my superior abilities. I solved the case, didn't I?" Hodges gloated.

Grissom was once again disgusted by the statement from the lab tech. Even Greg and Sara couldn't hide their respective repulsions.

To rid himself of the irritating man, he turned to his companions. "Sara, the trace you found on the sheets was sagebrush oil. Bushes were all over the bar. The transfer happened when Gray and Huxley were manhandling each other there," he enlightened the two.

"Without doubt, Cole Gray's our killer. Now it's just the matter of finding him," Greg said.

Archie suddenly stormed inside the lab, gripped the edge of a table to keep himself from losing balance.

"I got a signal from Gray's phone! He's heading to the airport!" he managed in between gasps.

"He must be stopped before he can leave the country, or even the state!" Hodges blurted out, stating the obvious.

Sara was the first to take action. Drawing the phone from her pocket, she wasted no time contacting Brass.

"_Brass."_

"Jim, Sara here. We got Gray's location. His signal is approaching the airport. Are they aware of the situation?"

"_I am actually on my way there. An officer spotted him earlier. He's currently following Gray. I sent word to the airport security. He won't get out."_

"I'll go too. I'll just meet you there, okay?"

"_Fine. But don't you dare do anything stupid if you get there first. Airport security is out of my jurisdiction. I won't be able to pull you out from the mess you're putting yourself into."_

"Yes, I'll behave and let them handle him."

"_I'll see you later then."_

"Thanks, Jim."

As she prepared to leave, Grissom approached her. He looked apprehensive, concerned, and dead serious all at the same time.

"We don't know if he's armed or not. Do not put yourself in harm's way, please. He might be more dangerous than we anticipated him to be," he pleaded as if Greg, Hodges, and Archie weren't around to hear the unusual set of words that came out from him.

She only responded with a stare. When he didn't get a verbal response, he continued, "We will talk later after this, okay?" He hoped that the other three didn't get the slightest hint of what he meant. It was between him and Sara only.

Finally, "Yes," she answered indifferently before walking out.

Apparently, Archie still had something to say. He took one deep breath before speaking again. "I also have the records that Sara asked me to retrieve. I guess you won't need it anymore."

"Yeah. Thanks anyway Arch," Greg said.

"Okay. But just so you know, pneumonia was listed as his wife Melanie's death. His son, Jordan, doesn't have a death certificate on file. I double-checked, even triple-checked."

* * *

Reviews are *HIGHLY* encouraged. I see so many of you lurking and only few leave reviews. :(


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